


Near Chances

by ErzasCake, Squintyfist (ErzasCake)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Bees, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Dick Grayson is Discowing, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is Robin, Feelings, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Jim has a few speaking lines and thats it really, John is only there for a real short while, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Robin Dick Grayson, Young Dick Grayson, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErzasCake/pseuds/ErzasCake, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErzasCake/pseuds/Squintyfist
Summary: 5 Times Dick Almost Died + 1 Time He DidChapter 1: One Time He Almost Died with His ParentsChapter 2: One Time He Almost Died as RobinChapter 3: One Time He Almost Died as NightwingChapter 4: One Time He Almost Died as a CivilianChapter 5: One Time He Almost Died as BatmanChapter 6: That Time HeDidDie
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68
Collections: Gotham Square (Batfam Discord Fics)





	1. No One To Call Him Their ‘Little Robin’ Anymore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AuroraKant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraKant/gifts).



> Title credit goes to the wonderful GeminiBaby!! tysm <3  
> Okay Hi!!  
> This is a Gift fic to AuroraKant so that I may own her soul  
> If this succeeds in giving _you_ feels as well, then I also own _your_ soul  
> Please make sure your soul is not indebted to any other beings before reading, Thank You.
> 
> Okay, joking aside, there's some content in here that might make you uncomfortable. It's just **mildly graphic depictions of two dead people** but I know mild descriptions can make _me_ feel uncomfortable so I'm warning you here.  
> Also! there's a **description of a panic attack and someone in a maybe dissociative state??**  
>  I'm new at this whole content warning thing, so I just want yall to be prepared
> 
> Also, the bit at the beginning was inspired by a fic I read once but I cannot for the life of me remember what exact fic it was.

**1) With his parents**  
  


* * *

  
John threw his son to the platform, hoping against hope that'd he’d make it and that he'd be okay afterward.

He couldn't think after that, didn't see if his son made it. Didn't see if Dick was safe on the platform.

* * *

  
Dick hit the edge of the platform hard and started slipping down immediately.

Even though he had the wind knocked out of him, he still instinctively scrambled to get a hold. His hands and fingers scratching at the platform, trying to set in so he didn’t fall.

He managed to get a grip and scrambled to get his legs on top.

He huffed and puffed, trying to get his breath back; his mind blank but also filled with terror and fear.

But of what?

What had happened that had him so scared?

Dick managed to get his breath back and the ringing in his ears seemed louder than ever, the lights too bright.

He felt dizzy and sick but noticed, _remembered_ , where he was.  
  
In the big top, on the trapeze platform. He was supposed to be doing a show with his parents.  
  
Where were they? He looked to the trapeze lines and saw them down. Limp. Like they'd been snapped.  
  


Screaming and crying started to drift past the ringing in his ears. He heard shouting from behind him. He dazedly twisted around and saw Harry climbing the ladder, shouting for him to stay where he was; to not look down.  
  


He looked down anyway.

What he saw made him sick and so much more dizzy.

His parents' bodies, twisted unnaturally, down on the ground, blood pooling around them.

He screamed when he finally registered that they were dead, that they had fallen. He scrambled back towards the post, almost bumping into Harry who had just gotten up.

They tried to reassure him, tried to steady him, to make him sit still, to not move.

He pushed them away and scrambled down the ladder, almost tripping and falling many times.  
  


He distantly heard calls of his name but he didn’t bother trying to listen.

He had to get to his parents.

Had to get to his mama and his papa.

His foot slipped on a rung a few feet above the ground and he fell.

He fell into someone's sturdy arms. Someone who had caught him with a grunt as they stumbled back and eventually fell.

Dick didn't move. Didn't bother trying to find out who had caught him, who had saved him from meeting the same fate as his family.

He was frozen, eyes glued to his parents' bodies. He could see his mom's head had split open, was practically flat.

Whoever had caught him seemed to notice where he was looking and shifted so he couldn't see them anymore.  
  
He tried to see them anyway. Terrible curiosity and just plain old want for his mom and dad taking over the part of him that said not looking was a good idea.

Whoever was holding him cupped the back of his head and smooshed his face into their shoulder. He could distantly hear them saying something like 'No, no, you don’t want to look. Don't look, trust me.'

Dick felt ill and dizzy and dazed and like nothing was real.

But the person who had caught him, who was holding him right now, was real.

He took a shaky breath and dug his fingers into the person's shirt, clinging to them.  
  


He was shaking, he realized. Shaking and not breathing right and crying.

When he noticed his tears he started sobbing. Keening for his parents. For them to not be dead. For it all to be a trick, a dream.

He wailed for them, screaming out for his mama and papa. For them to get up, to hug him and reassure him that _it's okay_. That it's just a _terrible nightmare_.

He didn't get that. He didn't get them.

They were dead. They couldn't help him or hold him or even love him anymore.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched, burying himself even more into the stranger’s embrace, clutching desperately to them. He shook his head, his breath hitching so much he could barely breathe.

The stranger's voice started talking to him. Telling him he needed to take deep breaths. A big inhale in. Hold. A slow exhale out.

He shakes his head. He couldn't do that. He couldn't breathe, couldn't calm down. Not with his parents dead.

Not with their skulls flattened and split open. Their brains all over the place, their bones and limbs unnaturally skewed about. With their blood pooling underneath them to mess their clothes and whoever's shoes stepped in.

He felt someone _-not the stranger holding him, someone else-_ rub his back. He heard humming. Familiar humming. Humming from Harry.

He felt the stranger's chest rise and fall deeply while breathing. Heard the stranger try to slow and even out his breathing.

Dick focused on the hand rubbing his back, on Harry's humming, and on the stranger's embrace.

Slowly, very slowly, his breathing started to slow down. Started to even out.  
  


He was getting air again, even though there was still the occasional hitch to his breath.  
  


He didn't look up or remove his head from where it was buried in the stranger's shoulder, but he did notice that something had been draped over him. A blanket or a coat.  
  


He heard someone speaking. Someone unfamiliar.

He still didn't lift his head but he listened. Or tried to.

"I hate that this is a somewhat familiar scene for some of us,” The unfamiliar voice said.  
  
  
The stranger holding him grunted in response.  
  
\----  
  
“...wasn’ ‘n accident,” Dick mumbled into the stranger’s shirt. His breath hitched again as he thought back to what had happened earlier, with Pop Haly and the strange guys. With the suspicious-looking creep hanging around the tents earlier in the evening.  
  
  
“What? I’m going to have to ask you to repeat that, son.” The new guy said.  
  
  
Dick leaned away from the stranger holding him and faced the new one. He looked into the man’s eyes, past his square glasses and mustache.  
  
“It wasn’t an accident,” Dick said firmly, daring them to disbelieve him.  
  
  
The man furrowed his fuzzy brows.

“That’s a strong accusation you’re making.” He said. “Are you certain about it?”  
  
  
Dick nodded. He wasn’t going to let the guy who killed his parents get away with it. He’d catch ‘em himself if he had to.  
  
  
The stranger holding him seemed to slump a bit, like he’s resigned.  
  
“This is Gotham, Jim. I wouldn’t write it off.”  
  
  
The new man, _Jim_ , also seemed resigned, “I know.”  
  
“God, I hate this city.” He muttered under his breath.  
  
  
Dick silently agreed.  
  
He wished Haly’s never stopped in Gotham, wished he never even knew this terrible place existed.  
  
Wished it didn’t exist, period.  
  
Because maybe then, his parents would still be alive. Would still be able to hug him and scold him and fly with him.  
  
_  
Would still be able to love him._


	2. Wave for the Crowd, Boy Wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick stop getting distracted by thinking about bees, please and thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say i was peer pressured into releasing this but I was the one who asked whether I should or if I should try to add more to it.
> 
> Uhm I can't think of any major warnings for this chapter but there is nonconsenual drugging and uh... Bees. Yeah.
> 
> Not as angsty or feels-inducing as i want it to be but the reason for that is because i got distracted researching bee facts ~~and i didn't even end up using them in here smh~~
> 
> Enjoy!!

Robin catches the ledge as he falls and uses the momentum to swing himself up on top. He rolls until he gets to a covered nook and tucks himself into a shadowy corner, hiding.

As much as he wants to just run out there and fight, he knows he’s outnumbered _and_ outclassed.

His best bet is to hide until Batman gets to him. Until his guardian distracts the enemy enough that he can get away _(and maybe join Batman’s side and **fight**.)_

* * *

He counts the footsteps, noticing that they are too loud to be just one person. He holds his breath and curls into himself more, pulling his cape tight around him.

The footsteps paused near him, just like in the movies and books. When the suspense of whether or not the protagonist has been discovered is at its climax.

The feet move on.

He doesn’t let himself relax, though. More could be coming over soon.

He hopes his hiding spot is, well, _hidden_ enough to escape detection.

He almost jumps when he feels a sharp (and painful) sting on his bare arm, near his elbow.

He holds still.

Nothing happens. He chances looking at what could have stung him.

A bee.

Or at least he thinks it’s a bee.

...But why (and _how_ ) would a bee be here? In the middle of a villainous compound?

Something isn’t right, and it is more than just the mysterious bee.

He tries to think. But his thoughts, his _mind_ , are getting blurry. Hazy.

Like he’s been drugged.

Oh.

Well, that explains some things.

He is having a hard time keeping his eyes open. His breathing keeps on deepening, keeps on getting heavier.

He won’t fall asleep, though.

He can’t.

He is in enemy territory and he has no idea where Batman was.

He _needs_ to stay awake and alert. He can’t let them get him.

He is getting cold, now. His cape isn’t that big and hasn’t been updated for a little while. It leaves a bit of him uncovered when he curls even tighter into it.

Where the gosh-golly is Batman? He won’t be able to stay awake much longer.

He hears footsteps again but he doesn’t know, _can’t remember_ , if they continued past him or stopped in front of him.

He falls ‘asleep’ before he finds out.

* * *

When Robin opens his eyes his vision goes dizzy.

He is spinning ever so slowly.

He is hanging above a hole, a pit.

He can’t tell if there’s water or acid or just plain old hard -dirt- ground in the pit.

He doesn’t know if it even _has_ a bottom and that makes him nervous.

He doesn’t know what could happen if he dropped in.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be eaten or burned or flattened into a pancake ~~_(like his parents)_~~.

He doesn’t know if there are cushions or trampolines beneath him, doesn’t know if he’ll be alright if he falls.

He can’t let himself fall.

He can’t abandon Bru-Batman like that.

Batman promised him that he’d always catch him. And Robin trusts him on that, believes him.

Which is why he has to do the same for Batman. To catch his mentor when he falls, when he slips and cracks. _To keep him hopeful._

He attempts to ‘ground’ himself.

Tries to find somewhere, _something_ , to spot himself. So he can get a hold of his bearings.

His head is still a bit too hazy, too groggy, to actually do so.

He feels nauseous.

Must be a side effect from the drugs. From the secret bumblebee agent.

But wait, was it really a secret agent if it wasn’t wearing a hat?

Hmm… could’ve just been an ordinary bee that had been bee-napped and then forced to cooperate with the villain so her bee family (that was being held hostage) could live and go free. Gosh, he really hopes that the bee’s family wasn’t harmed.

Woah. Okay. He _must_ be a bit loopy from the drugs if he’s thinking up a backstory for a bee.

Wait, is the bee even still alive?

It had stung him, hadn’t it? Don’t bees die when they sting someone?

Or was that only a _certain_ type of bee?

Oh no! That poor bee’s family, they’ll never be able to see her again! She sacrificed her life so they could go free and _live._ So they could continue to pollinate flowers and plants and do whatever else it was that bees did.

Okay, he really needs to sober up. He can’t keep getting distracted by that poor bee. Although maybe he’ll have a little funeral or ceremony for her sacrifice when he gets out of this situation.

Yeah, he’ll do that.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. Focusing on the crisp chillness of the air entering his lungs. On the hazy, faint, scents tickling his nose. He takes notice of the way a breeze hits him stronger coming from one side. Of the way that he can’t hear any hizzling and spizzling or cracks and pops. Of the way that he can’t feel any obvious heat coming anywhere near him.

He breathes out. He opens his eyes and is finally able to spot himself, is finally able to _ground_ himself, to _steady_ himself. He finally sees, understands, and recognizes that he’s hanging above a hole that shows the city streets far below. He can’t even hear the cars honking or anything from the city, really. Only the wind can be heard and _golly_ it is loud.

He hums to himself softly and counts how many people were in the room with him. Well, how many were in the room surrounding the pit, which he is already sort of in.

Five, ten, fifteen.

Fifteen people, most seem to be male and of average height and build.

He should be able to swing himself up over the edge of the pit and to safety should the line be cut at the right time.

He feels himself be jerkily lowered and looks up. He pales when he sees that the rope he’s hanging by is slowly getting cut.

In a few minutes, he’ll be falling to the streets of Gotham far below and will become a robin-pancake if he doesn’t get out of this soon.

He tries to untie himself but he’s still too uncoordinated for his fingers and hands to cooperate with him.

The rope will not be able to hold his weight long enough for him to get the right momentum to swing to safety. If he tries to swing, it will put too much stress on the fraying rope…

Fraying… rope…

He is in the air, hundreds _-thousands-_ of feet above ground held up only by the **_fraying rope_** he was tied with.

Suddenly he’s hearing the far-off sound of drums and enthusiastic chattering and cheering. He can feel the heat of a shining spotlight and the coolness of his parents’ hands on his shoulder.

He sees, far down below, the twinkling lights of the audience, of his family’s enthusiastic and eager fans, just waiting to be dazzled and awed by their performance.

It should be something that makes him feel happy, excited. It doesn’t. He just feels dread and fear and- and nothing. He feels numb. Numb like this is not really happening.

* * *

He hears a snap and suddenly he’s falling.

* * *

Just as Dick is certain he is going to fall to his death, he is caught. Caught miraculously in time from joining his parents.

He takes in big gulps of air as soon as he (and his savior) got onto solid ground.

He digs his fingers into the loose gravel. Feeling the rocky and chalky texture against his palms. He feels the way the gravel digs into his bare legs.

He focuses on that feeling, and on the presence of his savior. Of the same person who had caught him when he fell from the ladder on that terrible, terrible night.

He feels Batman, Bruce, place a gauntleted hand on his back, pushing down a bit so that there was more soothing pressure, grounding weight, to be felt through the protective layers of the Robin costume.

Dick opens his eyes and notices that hey, he’d been crying.

Why is he crying? He is safe, he is fine. Batman had saved him.

Is it because he is relieved? Does it have something to do with that terrible night? Or is he just weak?

No. No, he isn’t weak. It is completely okay to cry. Even if it is over something mundane compared to what he’s been through before. Even if it is over something that’s happened to him many times.

Even if it’s over something that makes a common occurrence in his bad dreams.

Maybe especially then.

Bruce lets him take his time in re-gathering himself. Dick is grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, I could've added a lot more but my brain said 'no this is enough its perfect.' And then it left the building.  
> Hopefully all the formatting works

**Author's Note:**

> Pls let me know what you think!! Thanks!!
> 
> Aug 14, 2020: Made some minor edits to help with the readability.  
> (The second chapter will come, just focusing on a zine rn)
> 
> Sep 23, 2020: Minor edits made towards a minor character. Changed their name from 'Waldo' (which was originally just a placeholder name taken from a clown that pre-crisis Jason and Dick knew) to 'Harry' (taken from a clown that comforted Dick after his parent's death in Batman Year 3 by Marv Wolfman)  
> (The second chapter is very close to completion, just need to add one more section and then edit.)
> 
> Dec 15, 2020: Made some more minor edits. Both my keyboard and Dick are fighting me when I try to finish the 2nd and 3rd chapters. Dick also fights me when I try to draw him so maybe he just doesn't like me. Uhm let's see what else was I gonna put?? Oh yeah, I've got the 4th chapter pretty much complete, just need to decide if I want to add some bits to make it longer. The 5th and 6th chapters have outlines, in case yallre wondering abt them.
> 
> Jan 03, 2021: Chapter 2 coming soon to this fic near you


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